


12x12 Coda

by DeanCasismyHappyPlaceCNK80Q3



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x12 Coda, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Tra xx, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mixtape, Post-Episode: s12e12 Stuck In The Middle (With You)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 14:52:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10993185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanCasismyHappyPlaceCNK80Q3/pseuds/DeanCasismyHappyPlaceCNK80Q3
Summary: Dean isn't good with words, so when Cas says the three little words he can't, Dean finds another way to tell Cas he loves him.My playlist of the mixtape is here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLpJKc3navfGJntMefEi4q7BlKT0v2JJeJ&disable_polymer=true





	12x12 Coda

“Sammy! Heads!” Dean lobbed Baby’s keys to Sam who snatched them mid-air with hardly a glance in his direction. “Well-oiled,” thought Dean. It had been a long time coming, but he and Sam were finally on the same page, hunting as a team and it was good. Dean knew there would be no explanation required. After that close call, Dean was driving Cas back to the Bunker himself. End. Of. Story. He wasn’t letting his angel out of sight.  
He slid behind the wheel of the Bronco and she grumbled awake as he turned the key. “…the Lord your God, before it’s too late. Today could be your last. Life is short and you never know when the Good Lord will call you home…” He cast a sideways glace at Cas and adjusted the volume.  
He kept casting sideways glances at Cas as they drove, needing to make sure Cas was still there; assuring himself things hadn’t gone as badly as… He so often forgot his angel was not invincible. He shouldn’t have asked him to come on this hunt. If he hadn’t… Cas wouldn’t have nearly… He tried not think about it.  
He focused instead on Cas’ words, still rattling around in his head. “I love you. I love all of you…” “I love you,” Cas had said. Cas loved him. Cas. Loved. Him. How was that even possible? Dean hadn’t even looked at Cas when he told him. “Coward,” he chided himself.  
Even when he thought Cas was… hewastryingnottothinkaboutthat, Dean still hadn’t looked at him. And he certainly hadn’t been able to save him. He owed Cas’ life to Crowley of all creatures. Dean shuddered at the thought.  
“I love you “played in his head again as he jerked his thoughts back from the unthinkable. Yet, here he was, alone with Cas, and he still couldn’t make his tongue say those three little words Cas deserved to hear. It was one thing when his mother and brother were there. But now? It was just the two of them. There was no danger of being overheard or interrupted. No excuses. “Yeah, coward doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he thought.  
He tried to redirect his thoughts again. “Make the most important decision of your life today, friend. You never know when your time will be up! Get right with the Lord today…” Dean glanced over at Cas who was sitting up now, looking out his window. “I gotta ask, man. What gives with the Sunday Morning Power Hour?”  
“Oh” Cas said, “the radio dial is broken. I can’t tune it, it’s just static. I found this tape in the glovebox.” He nodded toward the radio and caught Dean’s eye. Dean nodded, and Cas continued, “I tried to find some others, but it seems tapes are a bit out of fashion these days. The Good Reverend is soothing background noise, and he’s definitely better company than riding in silence for days at a time.” Cas smiled over at Dean. “I definitely have a new-found appreciation for the hours you’ve logged behind the wheel. It’s quite the unspoken and unsung portion of the job.”  
Damnit! Was Cas seriously complimenting him right now? How could he be after what he’d just been through, and the way Dean had acted? Not to mention that he’d been utterly paralyzed on one of the only occasions Cas actually needed his help. He’d been a useless coward. “No wonder Cas keeps telling me how wonderful I am,” he thought sarcastically.  
Now to top it all off, Cas’ radio had been all fucked up, and Dean hadn’t even paid enough attention when he’d serviced the vehicle to notice. He was a selfish, useless coward. And yet Cas still managed to make it sound like Dean was some type of unsung hero for riding around in Baby. When, all these weeks, Cas’d been driving all over the country – alone, his only company Rev. Horton Who extolling the virtues of repenting early and often (over and over and over and over again). Cas deserved better; Cas deserved everything. He could never give Cas what he deserved, could never come close, but he thought maybe there was one small thing he could do for him. It wouldn’t make up for him not saying the words his heavy, cowardly tongue wouldn’t let him say, but it was a start.  
When they got back to the Bunker, Dean settled Cas into his room –he was taking NO chances tonight – and got to work.  
***  
Cas laid in his room and stared at the ceiling. He’d almost died, which shouldn’t have bothered him. He’d died before he met the Winchesters, and about once a year ever since. But this time, it’d been different. This time, Dean had been there and Cas’d felt his fear, his regret, his guilt. He’d felt it stronger than the decay rotting him from inside. He’d known that when he died Dean would blame himself for his death. How? And it had made him ache in ways that dying all those other times (and he remembered all the other times) never had. So even though he was fine, he hadn’t even made a pretense of thinking about going anywhere tonight. He’d let Dean walk him to his room. He’d accepted the change of clothes Dean had brought from his own room and had surrendered his black and bloody clothes to Dean to wash. In truth though, Cas had been fine the second Crowley had broken the Lance. He was One Hundred Percent. Good. As New. But he’d seen the tremor in Dean’s hands as he gripped the steering wheel too tightly the whole drive home. He’d seen Dean’s frequent tentative glances all the way home, as though he was afraid Cas would just evaporate. He’d seen Dean’s clenched jaw even as he made small talk about Cas’ broken radio and choice of background noise for the road. So Cas wasn’t going anywhere tonight because Dean needed him here, so here is where he’d be. Lucifer’s baby would just have to wait.  
***  
After Dean made sure Cas was safely in his room, he went down to the Bunker’s garage and made a B line for his road library, a wall of shelves he’d designated for his extensive cassette collection. As he walked he silently chastised himself for not thinking to draw his angel’s attention to it before. He stood, perusing for a long while, trying to decide what Cas would like, before he shook his head and walked over to Baby. He opened the driver’s door and reached under his seat to pull out his Essential Road CollectionTM. “This is where I should start,” he thought and headed back to his room.  
Dean sat at his desk pausing, rewinding, fast forwarding, stopping, replaying, and making notes. He wrote songs down, crossed them off, wrote down new songs, crossed those off, wrote down more new songs, crossed those off, sat back and sighed. “Cas doesn’t exactly have a musical track record to work with,” he told himself. As far as he knew, his angel’s listening history included only the tape currently playing on loop in the behemoth. Cas needed something better to listen to than that. It was the least Dean could do. Cas deserved so much more, Dean had to give him this one small thing. He definitely didn’t acknowledge the little voice telling him the real reason this particular tracklist was so important; that it was supposed to say everything Dean couldn’t. Coward.  
***  
When he was satisfied, no, that’s too generous; when he could stomach the tracklist, he rummaged through his desk drawer for a blank tape and began recording. When he’d finished he could smell Sammy’s first brew of the day. “So much for tonight’s four hours,” he thought – Selfish – and popped the tape out of his boombox and headed toward the kitchen, by way of Cas’ room. He didn’t want to miss his angel.  
In hindsight he sensed that Cas might’ve come back to the Bunker “back home,” he thought, because he’d sensed how shaken up Dean had been. It didn’t surprise him. Cas was always looking out for him, not that he deserved it.  
He knocked and waited. Nothing. He waited another beat before softly opening the door. “Cas?” Cas wasn’t in his room. His bed was perfectly made and Dean wondered how long his angel had made himself lay there before getting up to... what? wander around the Bunker? leave? Dean’s heart rose in his throat a little as he closed Cas’ door behind him and made his way toward the smell of coffee.  
He shuffled into the kitchen and (he hoped) grumbled a gruff “Mornin’” to Sam, although his voice still felt tight. His heart continued its ascent into throat as he quickly realized Cas wasn’t in the kitchen either. If Sammy noticed Dean was still wearing last night’s clothes or that his eyes were red-rimmed and bleary, he didn’t let on. “Morning,” Sam replied automatically, barely glancing up from his research as Dean sat down across from him with his mug. He sipped tentatively.  
“Cas is in the library,” Sam continued, just as Dean was working up an attempt at nonchalantly inquiring as to his angel’s whereabouts. What the hell?!? Dean wondered, even as he stood up and headed toward the library. Sam put down his research and shook his head. It only took a glance for him to know Dean hadn’t slept. Sam hadn’t figured he would, after last night. But he hadn’t expected Dean to look still look so tense. After all, everyone was home now, safe and sound. And they’d had close calls before, even with Cas. Hell, Cas’d died before. Then it dawned on him, and he shook his head as he turned back to his research. NO WAY was he sticking his nose into this one. Dean was just going to have to suck it up and land on his own way return Cas’ sentiment.  
When Dean walked into the library and saw Cas’ head poking up over Sam’s wall of research, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Cas looked up and greeted him with a barely there smile and quiet nod. Dean’s heart stuttered. He walked around Sam’s research mountain and saw that Cas was still wearing Dean’s favorite AC/DC shirt and comfiest sweat pants. His heart nearly stopped. Adorable, flashed through his mind before he had the good sense to stuff the thought firmly back down where it belonged.  
“Sammy come up with anything useful?” he tested as he palmed the tape, flipping it over and over, in his pocket.”Mmmmmhhhmmm,” Cas replied. Dean’s hart faltered again. Was he doing this on purpose? Dean wondered. “I’ve learned a great deal this morning, signs, symbols, symptoms to look for…” Cas began listing all the useful points of Sam’s extensive research. As Cas was talking, Dean let his eyes drop to the floor. He knew he’d held Cas up, even though Cas would never admit it; if Dean pressed him, would insist that reviewing the research had been helpful, if not necessary. Cas needed to leave soon, hell, Cas should’ve left already. And Dean was stalling. The thought of Cas leaving pained him. It always had, but especially now, after… And he couldn’t even tell his angel how he felt. Hell, he was having trouble giving him the damn tape. Cas looked up from Sam’s notes, “Is something the matter, Dean?” he asked.  
Dean chickened out. Sort of. He pulled his hand out of his pocket. “I know you’ve gotta leave soon, like 3 hours ago, but I wanna show you something before you go. Come with me?” he asked. “Of course, Dean” was Cas’ immediate reply. Dean reached for Cas’ hand, who slid it effortlessly into his as Cas followed him out of the library, down to the Bunker’s garage, and over to the wall of cassette tapes.  
“Here, buddy.” “Buddy, Dean, really? That’s the direction you’re taking with this?” he chided himself. “Take as many as you want, whenever you want. You can’t go wrong if you stick to my three fourths of the shelves,” he winked that was better and gestured to the shelves as Cas stepped closer and began reading album covers he likely had no frame of reference for. He cocked his head this side, then that. Adorable floated across Dean’s mind again. “I, um, I’m afraid, I don’t even know where to begin making a selection.” Cas looked over at Dean, and was that worry on his face? Castiel, Angel of the Lord, hunting Lucifer’s baby, was stressing over road tunes? “Now or never. Do it!” Dean thought as he forced his hand into his pocket and pulled out the tape. “You, uh, you could start with this one,” Dean leaned forward and pressed the cassette into his angel’s hand, avoiding his eyes. “These are some of my favorites. Thought you might like to give some of ‘em a try, you know, since you’re new to this and all...” he rambled. Cas touched Dean’s arm, and Dean quieted and looked back up into Cas’ too big, too blue eyes, which were beaming with affection. “I can think of nothing I would like more. Thank you, Dean,” he said. He reverently held up the small square of plastic to read its label, “Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Tra xx.”


End file.
